


To The Willing

by EarlGreyLeaf



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Control Issues, Gen, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlGreyLeaf/pseuds/EarlGreyLeaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Prince slips up behind you, smoothing your hair aside and examining your delicately bruised skin with reverent fingers, "Every time you look in a mirror or catch your reflection in a glass, you will see me standing right behind you. But if you turn around, you’ll know you’re alone.  It won’t be long before you’re on your knees, begging for my return.”</p><p>Entry for the LokisDirtyWhispers Contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Willing

**Author's Note:**

> 2/13/13 Update: Thank you all SO MUCH for all the Kudos!!

**“Volenti Non Fit Injuria.”**

**-To one willing, no harm is done.-**

**I.**

It's cold.

Bitterly so, and you pull your comforter more tightly around yourself. The mid-January frost seeps in through your closed windows, fogging them despite what weak heat your room can muster. You feel like a frozen burrito. It's exasperating.

You've been lying here for what seems to be ages. You debate rising from your cocoon to make tea to warm your bones, but that would actually entail rising. A sigh escapes your lips, and you're surprised not to see it in cloud form. Well, there is _one _thing you could try.__

The more you think about it, the more promising it sounds. Hell, it's not like you haven't been left with mountains of frustration after spending hours on those blogs. You've been positively vibrating. A finger lazily runs circles over your stomach. It would definitely be worth a shot.

You feel your skin prickle beneath your fingertip. Legs widening slightly, your hand slowly begins to trail down to your waistband, toying with it idly. Low anticipatory heat settles in the pit of your abdomen, licking out across your skin. Your hand slips past the elastic barrier, and you hiss softly at the touch of the chilled digits. It's not unpleasant.

You revel in this discovery. The contrasting cold against your warm core elicits a shiver across your body. Experimenting, you slide in one curious finger, and stifle a gasp against the back of your other hand. Your eyes clamp shut, brows furrowed. You add another finger, then another, and your mind starts to wander, fading in your fevered state. You're sure it's a poor imitation, but you're beginning to imagine what it feels like to be taken by a Jotun. One Jotun in particular.

At the thought, your pace quickens, and the room feels much more warm. You kick the comforter down to your ankles, knees bent. Your hands are determined, and a name slips freely from your lips.

A chuckle strikes you from your blissful state. Eyes flying open, you scramble to cover yourself, disoriented. You catch a humanoid shadow reclining near your window, now cracked slightly. A flash of brilliant jade and you know exactly who this is. 

"Don't let my presence stop you. Please, continue."

Your mouth is hanging open most unbecomingly. Did you somehow manage to fall asleep in the middle of that? You flounder for words, "Er- What... How are you-" The blanket is pulled tightly around your neck, trying to hide your flush and embarrassment. You are completely bewildered.

Your visitor straightens, the edge of his lips turning upwards, "Honestly, you know as well as I do that this isn't the first time. How could I not listen when you called upon me so deliciously and so _often _?"__

Your eyes are very wide now. It's amazing that your fire-hot face hasn't burned though the sheet yet. At your flustered stammering, he hushes you with a wave of his hand, and quietly paces to your bedside. You lean away instinctively.

He catches your chin between his fingers gently, "No. You've been unaware of my watching you, studying you. But tonight..." His eyes are enthralling, skin the perfect shade of luminescent porcelain you would expect from a god and you are stunned into stillness, "Tonight, you will see how attentive I can be."*

The silence that hangs afterwards is heavy with meaning. Finally, whether in an act of boldness or stupidity, you know not which, you surge forward to draw him into a heated kiss. You can tell he is surprised by your gall, but smirks lightly against your mouth. You feel his tongue, startlingly warm, slide against your lips, and you more than willingly let him enter.

At some point, you realize that he has backed you down against your bed, his palm resting softly against your breastbone. The hand trails to the hem of your nightshirt, pausing questioningly, "My darling, if you wish it-"

Your fervent nod cuts him off, and his smirk sends tingling waves straight to your core. The cool palm brushes up your shirt. He gazes upon your bare torso, and you suddenly feel very exposed. You look away, the ever-present warmth of a flush on your cheeks, but he turns your face back towards his, "Do not be ashamed. Your body is more than to my liking."

You take in his face, the reassuring fondness in his eyes before they settle once again on your breasts. He kneads them lightly, his tongue darting out momentarily to brush against your skin. You are panting now, still absorbing the revelation that you've somehow gotten a Prince of Asgard, of Jotunheimr, in your bed without even trying.

He takes you slowly, caringly, but it's not long before you are crying to the heavens, his name becoming a mantra. By dawn, you are a boneless mess. It surprises you when he takes a moment to draw your sheets over your spent body, an intimate action. After a last soft kiss, he vanishes.

**II.**

The second time Loki visits, it is late one evening in early February.

You had just begun to think your previous encounter a dream. Your face rises from your book at the soft sound of feet, and the Prince has slid through your window once again. You want to speak, but realize his gaze is noticeably dark, something boiling just behind those malachite orbs. Your mouth goes dry.

Loki unsnaps his cloak, and it falls like liquid to the floor.

"Touch me."

**III.**

You are not shocked the third time he materializes in your room. You quickly fall into a tangle of limbs, kisses and bites landing over heated skin as clothing disappears, melting into soft palms worshipping your every curve.

**IV.**

“My dearest, I see the desire in your eyes when I show my true form. I wonder how your beautiful body would react if my ice cold, wet tongue traced the contours of your breasts. May I go lower?"*

A gasp.

"Oh, I think I shall. That shudder is not from the chill.”

**V.**

The fifth time is rough and fierce.

He leaves bruises, just as you leave scratches, angry-red down his back. You feel something changing, the dynamic faulting and cracking with something undeterminable. He is relentless in his thrusting, and your bed quakes against the wall.

He leaves wordlessly.

**VI.**

“I want you sore, darling. I want you to feel pain when you think of me, and tomorrow, every time you sit, you will be incessantly and undeniably reminded of who you truly belong to. You will soon experience first-hand what true Monarchy is, be it delicately cascading over your soft, warm tongue, or slowly dripping down the ethereal curvature of your inner thighs.”*

**VII.**

You begin seeing him wherever you go. A wisp of emerald in passing windows, dark black hair just out of reach in the bustle of crowds. It's alarming. At some point, you start running, whipping away as breathy laughter follows you everywhere. It goes on for days, weeks, and you feel your sanity eroding along with your once-innocent romance.

**VIII.**

“You can try to forget me, but I will always be there."

You are brushing your mussed hair, eyes trained on the reflective glass, and avoiding the fresh purple on your neck. Your thighs still burn from his onslaught not an hour before. The Prince slips up behind you, smoothing your hair aside and examining your delicately bruised skin with reverent fingers.

"Every time you look in a mirror or catch your reflection in a glass, you will see me standing right behind you. But if you turn around, you’ll know you’re alone. It won’t be long before you’re on your knees, begging for my return.”*

You feel his eyes tearing holes in you.

**IX.**

Your room is dusty with disuse. You avoid the place, your home, as much as possible. You avoid being trapped there, the one place he knows you could be.

There's an eternal chill in your bones. You hug yourself protectively, instinctively, tucked away in a nearby coffee shop. You can't hate him. You love him so dearly, so fiercely, but he's a wicked force of nature. 

Something you can't even begin to control.

**X.**

“Do you really think you can keep evading me? Silly girl."*

Loki's grip on your arm is almost excruciating. You glare bitterly at him, angry at having been caught unaware. Your back is flat against the wall, legs splayed to accommodate his knee. His face is furious, regal brows knitted together in rage. It's terrifyingly beautiful.

"It’s only a matter of time, my sweet. You can’t run from me forever. And when I find you… Oh, we’re going to have a great deal of _fun_.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my entry for the fanfiction contest at LokisDirtyWhispers on Tumblr.
> 
> I tried to do something different, something other than the typical one-night stand or love story. I played on the metaphorical sense that once Loki has entered our lives, he never really goes away, no matter how much we do or don't want to overcome our obsession.
> 
> *= Marks Whispers used, as per contest requirements.
> 
> Fanfic Soundtrack:  
> "Skyfall" - Adele  
> "Skin to Bone" - Linkin Park  
> "Dark in My Imagination" - of Verona


End file.
